Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

so can i call you tonight?

i'm trying to make up my mind

just how i feel, could you tell me what's real?

i hear your voice on the phone

now i'm no longer alone

If Michelle’s dad asked her one more time why she couldn’t stop smiling to herself, she was going to spill her guts. 

Seriously. 

It took a total of two minutes after picking her up at the airport for him to question it.

"You seem happy."

"It was a good trip."

"Anything in particular?"

"Besides nearly dying multiple times?"

And again, ten minutes later in the car, because her phone kept lighting up.

'hi mj'

'michelle'

'no, you don't like being called that'

'em'

'chelle'

'i like those ones'

'do you?'

'mj is great too'

'may says i need to stop spamming u'

'sorry'

"Someone's popular," her dad nudged her elbow on the console, trying to get an answer out of her.

"Seems like it," and she couldn't stop the smile that formed on her lips quick enough.

And so on and so forth. 

It wasn't that she didn't want to tell her dad about Peter. Definitely not. In fact, she wouldn't mind shouting from the rooftops that Peter Parker really liked her and she really liked him back. 

But another part of her wanted to keep this feeling bottled up in her chest and have it just for herself. Because if she said it out loud it might slip through her fingers.

Because for so many years, Peter Parker had been her secret treasure trove that had gone unnoticed by anyone else. Hers to admire, until he glanced her way and her stare found something just beyond his shoulders. Hers to memorize until she could draw him from memory.

She had just barely scratched the surface, and now he was really hers.

If you wanted to use labels. 

And so she found herself that night, unsurprisingly, sketching his outline; now clad in red and black spandex, surrounded by Tower Bridge in ashes. 

She smiled to herself, writing 'Bridge and love's burning' in the bottom corner.

It would be an understatement to say that the knock on her window made her jump out of her skin.

A glance to her fire escape revealed one friendly neighborhood Spider-Man hanging upside down, enthusiastically waving at her.

A quick tuck of her head allowed her sketchbook to hide the grin breaking out on her face. She wouldn't let his ego get too big, not only one day in. 

The humid air clung to her skin as she opened her window, and she smiled as he quirked his head to the right. 

"Nice of you to drop in."

His spider eyes widened and he laughed. MJ wouldn't mind hearing him laugh for the rest of her life.

"I'm shocked to my core that you just said that, MJ."

"Shut up. We're done."

"Oh, well. It was fun while it lasted."

"For you, maybe." 

"Definitely."

Now MJ couldn't quite explain what drove her to place her hands on his mask, or why her fingers felt around for the edge of the fabric, pulling it back to reveal the lower half of his face. 

And curse him for giving her a big toothy grin in return.

So, she kissed him. Because she's allowed to do that now. 

"I think that's a contradictory thing to do after breaking up with me, MJ. You'll confuse my feelings."

And before she could give him some sarcastic response, her dad's voice from the kitchen beckoned her to go set the table.

"Shoot, I've gotta go. Dinner."

He pouted, and she giggled. A genuine real life giggle bubbled out of her chest. 

"Can I call you later?"

"I think you've earned that right, dork."

And he's smiling again as she starts to turn around, so she decides, "one more," planting another kiss on his lips. 

"Bye, Parker."

"Bye, Em."

And she cannot stop smiling at her plate if her life depended on it.

"Who were you talking to?" 

"Spider-Man."

"Okay, fine, don't tell me."

Her dad laughs, and for a split second, he reminds her of Peter.

She promises herself she'll tell him tomorrow.

But, for tonight, Peter Parker is hers.

Chapter Text

there is no way that i could possibly describe you

crayola doesn't make a color to draw my love

It wasn’t a crush. Michelle Jones did not have crushes. From what she gathered, they’re distracting and frustrating and far too consuming. She had a plan with very little room for error, and a crush (or anything of the sort) would most certainly throw the whole thing off.

No, this definitely wasn’t a crush. He was basically almost a friend. She just liked the way his smile was slightly lopsided, and how his eyes lit up when he found the answer to an equation. She liked the way that he always gave her a small wave in the hall. She liked the way his hair gel couldn’t always keep his curls down, and how he would frantically try to smooth it over once he noticed a curl poking out.

It was the second week of their freshman year, and she was sat at her own table for lunch. She savored the thirty minutes she had to be alone. Down one table, Ned was telling Peter some sort of story, something about the english teacher who was retiring this year. Peter was listening intently, until Ned’s shoulders started shaking with laughter, and a big toothy grin began to take over Peter’s face.

It made her heart feel too big for her chest. Without even thinking about it, she reached for the first notebook she could find and began to sketch the outline of his face while it was fresh in her mind. She sketched people all the time, so she reasoned that this was no different. It didn’t have to mean anything if she didn’t let it mean anything.

And yet, her pages began to be filled with images of him.

She tried not to give it too much thought.

And then, he had to go and hand her a package in Star Wars wrapping paper on her 15th birthday. He had hastily said happy birthday, flashed a smile, and walked away. She carefully peeled away the wrapping and found a small sketchbook and a 24 pack of Crayola colored pencils.

And so it became her Peter Parker sketchbook.

Except none of the colors ever perfectly matched his eyes. Try and try she might, no color could get it just the way she wanted. That’s the reason she kept drawing him, obviously, because she was bound determined to create the perfect shade of brown. It was sheer determination, and nothing else.

Well.

Years later, a few weeks before the start of their senior year, he would flop down on her bed, his head hanging off the edge. She would be sitting on the floor, face inches from his. He would smile, and so would she. She loved his eyes.

His eyes gleamed as he looked at her, and then searched around her room.

"No way.”

She laughed, her head leaning to the side.

"What?” She questioned him as he got onto his feet, walking over to the bookshelf behind her.

"Is this the sketchbook I gave you? Freshman year?”

She made a pathetic reach for the book as he sat down across from her, his back leaning against the bed. He flipped the cover open, and she buried her head in her knees.

"This is so not happening.”

She heard laughter in his breath when he exhaled, and then pages began to turn. When the silence became excruciating, she shifted her head to let her eyes peek over her arms. His lips were pressed into a smile, his eyes wide with something childish.

"Don’t laugh at me, Parker.”

"No, no! I’m not! You just, you sooo had a crush on me.”

She flopped down on the floor as a groan escaped her.

"Em, these are really good.”

"Yeah, ok.”

"No, serious! The details on my eyes are really cool.”

"They’re not the right shade, though.”

"They look brown to me.”

"But they’re not the right shade,” she exhaled as she pushed herself up on her elbows. “I can never get it right.”

"The color must exist somewhere,” his smile grew as he flipped through more pages.

"The amount of boxes of pencils I’ve gotten to try is pathetic, honestly. Crayola doesn’t make a color for your eyes.”

He paused, his eyes filled with admiration when he smiled at her.

"Well, we’re gonna have got to take it up with headquarters then. Put them to work.”

And as he sat there, smiling and showing her his favorite ones, she rationalized that although yes, big fat crushes are most definitely distracting and frustrating and far too consuming, she wouldn't mind drawing the boy sitting across from her for the rest of her life. 

Chapter Text

if i could tell her everything i see

if i could tell her how she's everything to me

(and how do you say i love you?)

Michelle Jones was absolutely, without a doubt, the most captivating person Peter Parker had ever known. 

She had always been a little off putting, and she had definitely always made him nervous. But over the course of their junior year, it had become a new kind of nervous. He had never experienced anything quite like it. 

He noticed all types of things about her, things he had never noticed before. But of course, he kept it all inside his head, all his favorite things about her left unsaid. Instead, a list was formed in his notes app:

mj

• smiles to herself when flash answers a question wrong 
• scribbles stars on the edges of her converse when she’s bored (notably in mr harrington’s class)
• hides a teen magazine in her textbook to fill out the quizzes (she marked spiderman as her favorite superhero last week)
• put indigo streaks in her hair after homecoming and she looked pretty cool, and really pretty
• dances at parties like the rest of the world isn’t there 

Every part of his brain would scream at him to grandly profess these things and feelings to her whenever she so much as smiled at him. But, even though he’d known her since they were in 8th grade, he could hardly get any words out anymore when she was around. 

Well.  

He would tell her soon. He had his plan for Paris. 

Until he didn’t. 

Instead, he got a dazed kiss on a burning Tower Bridge, and he had never been happier to have his plan fall through the cracks. 

He shows her his list on the plane ride home, both of them half asleep, but neither wanting to be the first to admit it. The list, he admitted with no more than a whisper, had nearly doubled in size over the course of this trip. In return, she places a quick kiss on his cheek, then says “I like being perceived by you, Parker.”

His breath catches, his brain empty for a moment. 

“Happy to do it. Anytime.”

They finally got some use out of his dual headphone adaptor, MJ choosing 'Perks of Being a Wallflower' as their movie. His head eventually leans against shoulder, and as they both fell asleep, her head tilted to rest on his. Her curls tickle his nose, and it smells like lavender. 

He makes a mental note to add it to the list. 

Chapter Text

my heart is yours

it's you that i hold on to

yeah, that's what i do

It was simple.

Michelle liked things that were permanent. Things she could trust would be there, without a doubt. 

Having her memories involuntary wiped, losing the one person who had ever been permanent in her life, was beyond what words could describe. 

She sure as hell wasn’t letting him go as easily this time around. 

It started the night he came back into her life, when the pieces slid back together in her mind. They laid on his couch that night, too tired to move across the room to his bed. She fought to stay awake as her chest tightened with the fear of waking up in a stranger’s home. Breaking this level of spell shouldn’t have been this easy, and she knew Peter was thinking the same. Nothing about this was permanent. 

His head had been in her lap, muscle memory taking over her as her fingers combed through his curls. As she got more comfortable, his back pressed against her chest, and she relaxed as she synchronized her breaths with his. Her arms wrapped around him, and she could feel his steady heartbeat. His hand rested over hers, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

It was an unspoken thing. 

His heart was hers. She would hold on to him. 

And that’s exactly how she woke up, Peter Parker’s arms still embracing her own. She buried her forehead below his shoulder, breathing him in until she could feel him waking up. He turned to face her, the morning light seeping through the window and making him glow. More than before, if possible. He smiled at her, and her heart was his.

It became a habit of sorts for years to follow.

She was many things, and superstitious was not one of them.

She knew the risks of dating Spiderman. She knew that any night could be the one when her television announces that dreadful headline. But she loved him, and he loved her, and that was promise enough that he would do everything he could to come home to her. 

So she couldn’t help but think of it as her good luck charm, falling asleep with her arms wrapped around him. It made her feel safe. And she knew, from a conversation on her old fire escape years ago, that Peter appreciated when others protected him for a change. 

Years down the road, a third body would be added to the mix, when May (their sweet, perfect, May) would crawl into their bed after a bad dream with tears in her eyes. They would wipe them away, and Peter would tell her one of their many stories. Tonight, he’ll tell May about the time her mom saved Peter by throwing her boot at the Jackal’s head, taking him by surprise just enough for Peter to web him up. MJ will note that it was a serious feminist feat on her part, and he’ll agree. When they finally calm her down, Michelle’s arms would rest on Peter’s, which embrace their daughter. On nights like this, she’ll hold on tighter than ever before.

My heart is yours, it’s you that I hold on to.

Chapter Text

we'll play nintendo, though i always lose

cause you'll watch the tv while i'm watching you

there's not many people i'd honestly say i don't mind losing to

but there's nothing like doing nothing with you

The summer before his senior year was, on paper, the worst months of Peter Parker’s life.

The entire world knew his name, but one Michelle Jones-Watson knew him.

And so, maybe, they were the best months of his life.

A week after they got back from London, MJ was officially invited to her first Mario Kart night at Ned’s house. Peter liked to believe he played it cool when she said she would be there. Super cool.

“Cool, cool cool cool cool cool.”

“Dork.”

Peter was the reigning champion of their Mario Kart nights. Him and Toad against the world.

Until tonight.

Very ominous of him, he knows.

Ned had immediately called out his freshly washed clothes and gelled hair as he walked through the front door.

“Dude. Really? It’s Nintendo night.”

“Shut up, man.”

Ned would laugh at the way Peter perked up when the doorbell rang ten minutes later.

And again at the way he fumbled over his words as he tried to hug her and simultaneously take the pizza box out of her hands. (She had insisted on them letting her bring it.)

They settle in Ned’s basement, sitting in the glow of the TV and the nostalgic sound of the Wii powering up filling the room. Remotes were passed out, and on Peter’s insistence, MJ was given the honorary number one remote.

"How chivalrous of you.”

“I do what I can.”

“It’s all a con, MJ,” Ned cut in, “so he can destroy us later.”

“Is that so?” Her eyebrows raise, a glint of a challenge in her eyes.

Peter shrugs, his face full of mock innocence.

He was put in his place too quickly.

He was going to take it easy on her the first round, he swears he was. But MJ was a beast at Mario Kart. In hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

As the round finished, Peter and Ned stared at her, stunned. 

"What?”

And when she didn’t get a response, she let out a breathy laugh, and chose their next race. 

Ned nudged him. "Dude, you gotta lock in.”

But, as it turns out, Peter’s girlfriend being insane at Mario Kart was his Achilles’ heel. He watched her, in awe, as she flew through the race. Her jaw was clenched, her hands moving quickly on her controller. Her eyes never left the screen. At one point, a curl fell in her face, and with one sharp exhale she blew it away. 

“Hey Pete,” she said as she was finishing her second lap.

“Hmm?”

“You’re driving backwards.”

“Oh.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be good at this? Destroying us?”

“I think we finally found his weakness, MJ,” Ned laughed, again, and nudged Peter with his shoulder.

And as MJ basked in the glory of her second win, Peter rationalized that he didn’t mind losing to her. At the end of the night, he even surrendered the Burger King crown that he and Ned had traded off for years after each tournament. 

She wore it with pride as he walked her home, his fingers brushing against hers. But instead of pulling away as if shocked like he once would, he accepted her hand as she wrapped it around his. 

He kicked a rock on the sidewalk, and asked, “is there anything you aren’t good at?”

“No,” she quipped, but Peter caught the smile on her lips before she could hide it. 

She dug through her tote bag for her keys as they approached the door to her apartment, and for a moment, he could picture her opening the door to their own apartment. 

It’s only been a week, he reminded himself. 

But still.

“Well,” she looked at him, keys now in hand, “tonight was fun.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Thanks for letting me beat you.”

“Sure, I let you beat me. We’ll stick with that.”

“Hopefully there’s some better competition next week.” 

She tilted her head, and the crown started to slip. With a smile, (definitely playing it cool this time) he straightened it on her head, and kissed her. 

Cool, cool cool cool cool cool.

“Goodnight, Em.”

“Hmm. Night, Pete.”

Chapter Text

dumb conversations, we lose track of time

have i told you lately i'm grateful you're mine?

we'll watch the notebook for the 17th time

i'll say "it's stupid" then you'll catch me crying

The end of their first quarter of senior year was around the corner, which meant finals, and finals were not a joking matter to Michelle. 

Luckily, despite his secret persona, her boyfriend cared (almost) as much as she did about doing well on their exams. Even better, he actually made a pretty good study partner. 

Most of the time. 

Sometimes.

(Okay, she just liked spending the extra time with him.)

Anyways.

On the Friday before their last week of the quarter, their textbooks and papers were sprawled across his bedroom floor. They had started with chemistry, then math, and were halfway through reviewing his vocab notes. May had ordered pad thai for them, and MJ's fork scraped the bottom of her bowl for the last bit of noodles. 

“Okay, next one,” she took a bite, flipped over his notes, “um, evanescent.” 

He was laying on his back, his arms covering his eyes. He swore it helped him concentrate better. 

“I know this one.”

“You got it, you made a joke about it before.”

“Oh!” His arms hit the ground, his face scrunched in concentration. “My public safety! Short-lived, tending to vanish or disappear.”

“That’s the one.” 

“I’m a genius.”

“Yeah, okay. Does your genius need some water? I’m gonna go grab some.” 

“I gotta throw this trash away before May has the chance to smite me. I’ll come with you.” 

And what a shame that he carefully stacked their empty containers to show off how well he could carry them, only for them to be haphazardly dropped on their table when he saw what movie May was watching. 

“May!” His voice was coated with disappointment. “You’re watching The Notebook without us?” 

MJ’s gaze narrowed on him, trying to discern if he was serious or not. May, the supposed culprit at hand, turned around on the couch.

“Aren’t you two studying?”

“Well, yeah, but this is blasphemous or something.”

Peter noticed MJ’s eyes on him, and admitted, “fun fact about me. May and I love The Notebook.”

“Interesting,” she pursed her lips, “I’ve never seen it.” 

MJ had watched Peter’s identity get revealed to the entire world in the matter of seconds, and that reaction was calm, for lack of better words, compared to this. And that is how she found herself on the Parker’s couch that night, watching The Notebook for her very first time.

Like she said, he was sometimes a good study partner. 

“Do you think our love can take us away together?”

“I think our love can do anything we want it to.”

MJ brushed the tear on her cheek with a quick swipe, playing it off as an itch when Peter turned to look at her. 

“It’s stupid,” she grumbled, and he exhaled as he laughed, wiping his own eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. As the movie ended, May sniffled, then got up from her spot on the end of the couch. She gave Peter’s hair a good ruffle before telling them goodnight. 

“Make sure you pick up this trash, Pete.”

Peter laughed, and agreed. 

She turned to face him on the couch, her knee tucking underneath her chin. “How many times have you watched that movie? Be honest”

He mirrored her. “Honest? It has to be like seventeen or something.” 

“That’s crazy. It’s important to me that you know that’s crazy.” 

“But you still cried at the end.”

“Did not.” 

“I know you better than that by now, Em.” 

Of course he knew. It was scary, being known so well by somebody. Scary, yes, definitely. But it was also something so safe, and so secure. He’s her best friend, she knew him just as well as he knew her. And in that moment, ‘am I in love with Peter Parker?’ whispered in the back of her mind.  

(For weeks, she would blame that thought on having just watched The Notebook, but really, she knew it was just an excuse to hide behind.)

For now, he knew her. She knew him. It was safe.

“I guess you do,” because her mind was now too consumed by this new question to pull out a witty response. So she kisses him, (because he’s looking at her with those eyes she’s gotten so used to, but is convinced will always make her nervous,) and she has to do something about it before she blurts it out. 

And well, maybe she wasn’t the best study partner either. Because she kisses him again, and again, and again.

Chapter Text

from time to time i ask myself,

why was it i and nobody else?

the most beautiful girl that i'd ever seen,

and she chose me.

Peter fumbled with the window, struggling more than usual to push it open. With one final push it slid up, and he crawled into his apartment. 

His mask was first to be discarded, thrown across the room to the couch-

“MJ!” Her name came out more of an inhale, his senses so worn down that the sight of her shocked him. 

She sat on the couch, her knees to her chest as her eyes scanned over him. She lingered on every gash in his suit, on his cheek, shoulder, and the side of his stomach.

He saw the way her eyes glossed over, the emotion so clearly present being pushed back and replaced with tenacity. He was used to it now, and though it made him indescribably sad, he was grateful for her. He was so grateful for her.

She stood up, cupped his face with her hand and smiled in a sad kind of way, then walked into his bathroom. She returned with the small basket she had created, back when they started dating, filled with bandages, gauzes and saline solution. (And pain killers, despite her knowledge that he didn’t really need ibuprofen.)

Exhausted, he had settled onto the couch in her place. She knelt in front of him, pressing the spider emblem on his suit and carefully pushing it off his shoulders. He watched as fear flashed across her face, the wounds now visible, and he grimaced for her. He knew how hard it was for her to see him like this.

“Saw the news,” she muttered, pushing a wet cloth against his skin to clean the cuts. “Damn Kraven.”

He nodded, and shrugged. The Kraven always kicked his ass, and this time was no different.

Once she was satisfied, she discarded the towel and grabbed the gauze and saline. Her hand lingered above the cut on his face before pressing against it, and he winced at the initial contact.

“I came right over,” she continued. “I couldn’t stand sitting in my living room, just waiting.” She grabbed a new gauze. “Had to do something. Lucky you gave me a key.”

He wasn’t surprised by this, it had been their routine for years now. But still, his chest ached for her. He was lucky she had decided to come home early with him for summer break, after all. Second week back in Queens and the Kraven had already tracked him down. 

But he only had the energy to smile at her, a silent apology and ‘thank you’ in one. 

They sat in familiar silence as she moved on to rubbing vaseline over the wounds, goosebumps raising on his skin from the cold feeling of it. She smiled and applied bandages, pleased with her work. She sat tall on her knees, and pressed a kiss to his unwounded shoulder. 

He watched her, watched the emotion slowly come back to her face. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to make eye contact.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“That’s not what I asked, Em.” His fingers brushed down her arms to grab her hands. She exhaled. 

“Better now that you’re here, and bandaged up.” 

He said nothing, knowing there was more on her mind that wanted to be said. she blinked a few times, then pushed herself up to the couch before she continued. 

“It never gets easier, you know. More predictable? Sure. But I don’t think seeing you like this will ever feel normal, or okay. It’s a shitty feeling.” She settled into his side, her hand splayed on his stomach, her thumb moving back and forth across the bandage. “And I know we’ve talked about this so many times, this is how it is, so…”

She was right. They had talked about this more times than he could count, he had made sure she knew she could tap out if it was ever too much. But here she was, time after time, by his side.

“I don’t deserve you,” he told her. Because it was true.

“Peter-“

“And I don’t mean it in a self-deprecating way!” He laughed, and she smiled. "I just mean, you’re so great. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this is that literally no one is promised tomorrow. Especially me. 23 year olds should not be as stressed as you. As us, but especially you. And there has to be so many people that could give you so much more. But you chose me. And, I’m just really, really lucky.”

That earned a few kisses on his jawline before her head rested on his shoulder. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I'm also really, really lucky."